Mrs. Weldon, on the contrary, was full of confidence and hope. A woman and a mother, she might have been expected to be conscious of anxiety at the peril3 to which she might be exposing herself and her child; and doubtless she would have been sensible of alarm if her mind had not been fully4 satisfied upon two points; first, that the portion of the pampas they were about to traverse was little infested5 either by natives or by dangerous beasts; and secondly6, that she was under the protection of a guide so trustworthy as she believed Harris to be.
The entrance to the forest was hardly more than three hundred paces up the river. An order of march had been arranged which was to be observed as closely as possible throughout the journey. At the head of the troop were Harris and Dick Sands, one armed with his long gun, the other with his Remington; next came Bat and Austin, each carrying a gun and a cutlass, then Mrs. Weldon and Jack8, on horseback, closely followed by Tom and old Nan, while Actæon with the fourth Remington, and Hercules with a huge hatchet9 in his waist-belt, brought up the rear. Dingo had no especial place in the procession, but wandered to and fro at his pleasure. Ever since he had been cast ashore10 Dick had noticed a remarkable11 change in the dog's behaviour; the animal was in a constant state of agitation12, always apparently13 on the search for some lost scent14, and repeatedly giving vent15 to a low growl16, which seemed to proceed from grief rather than from rage.
As for Cousin Benedict, his movements were permitted to be nearly as erratic17 as Dingo's; nothing but a leading-string could possibly have kept him in the ranks. With his tin box under his arm, and his butterfly net in his hand, and his huge magnifying-glass suspended from his neck, he would be sometimes far ahead, sometimes a long way behind, and at the risk of being attacked by some venomous snake, would make frantic18 dashes into the tall grass whenever he espied19 some attractive orthoptera or other insect which he thought might be honoured by a place in his collection.
In one hour after starting Mrs. Weldon had called to him a dozen times without the slightest effect. At last she told him seriously that if he would not give up chasing the insects at a distance, she should be obliged to take possession of his tin box.
"Take away my box!" he cried, with as much horror as if she had threatened to tear out his vitals.
"Yes, your box and your net too!"
"My box and my net! but surely not my spectacles!" almost shrieked20 the excited entomologist.
"Yes, and your spectacles as well!" added Mrs. Weldon mercilessly; "I am glad you have reminded me of another means of reducing you to obedience21!"
The triple penalty of which he was thus warned had the effect of keeping him from wandering away for the best part of the next hour, but he was soon once more missing from the ranks; he was manifestly incorrigible22; the deprivation23 of box, net, and spectacles would, it was acknowledged, be utterly24 without avail to prevent him from rambling25. Accordingly it was thought better to let him have his own way, especially as Hercules volunteered to keep his eye upon him, and to endeavour to guard the worthy7 naturalist26 as carefully as he would himself protect some precious
[Illustration: The way across the forest could scarcely be called a path.]
specimen27 of a lepidoptera. Further anxiety on his account was thus put to rest.
In spite of Harris's confident assertion that they were little likely to be molested28 by any of the nomad29 Indians, the whole company rejoiced in feeling that they were well armed, and they resolved to keep in a compact body. The way across the forest could scarcely be called a path; it was, in fact, little more than the track of animals, and progress along it was necessarily very slow; indeed it seemed impossible, at the rate they started, to accomplish more than five or six miles in the course of twelve hours.
The weather was beautifully fine; the sun ascended30 nearly to the zenith, and its rays, descending31 almost perpendicularly32, caused a degree of heat which, as Harris pointed33 out, would have been unendurable upon the open plain, but was here pleasantly tempered by the shelter of the foliage35.
Most of the trees were quite strange to them. To an experienced eye they were such as were remarkable more for their character then for their size. Here, on one side, was the bauhinia, or mountain ebony; there, on the other, the molompi or pterocarpus, its trunk exuding36 large quantities of resin37, and of which the strong light wood makes excellent oars38 or paddles; further on were fustics heavily charged with colouring matter, and guaiacums, twelve feet in diameter, surpassing the ordinary kind in magnitude, yet far inferior in quality.
Dick Sands kept perpetually asking Harris to tell him the names of all these trees and plants.
"Have you never been on the coast of South America before?" replied Harris, without giving the explicit39 information that was sought.
"Never," said Dick; "never before. Nor do I recollect40 ever having seen any one who has."
"But surely you have explored the coasts of Columbia or Patagonia," Harris continued.
Dick avowed41 that he had never had the chance.
"But has Mrs. Weldon never visited these parts? Our countrymen, I know, are great travellers."
"No," answered Mrs. Weldon; "my husband's business called him occasionally to New Zealand, but I have accompanied him nowhere else. With this part of Lower Bolivia we are totally unacquainted."
"Then, madam, I can only assure you that you will see a most remarkable country, in every way a very striking contrast to the regions of Peru, Brazil, and the Argentine republic. Its animal and vegetable products would fill a naturalist with unbounded wonder. May I not declare it a lucky chance that has brought you here?"
"Do not say chance, Mr. Harris, if you please."
"Well, then, madam; providence42, if you prefer it," said Harris, with the air of a man incapable43 of recognizing the distinction.
After finding that there was no one amongst them who was acquainted in any way with the country through which they were travelling, Harris seemed to exhibit an evident pleasure in pointing out and describing by name the various wonders of the forest. Had Cousin Benedict's attainments44 included a knowledge of botany he would have found himself in a fine field for researches, and might perchance have discovered novelties to which his own name could be appended in the catalogues of science. But he was no botanist45; in fact, as a rule, he held all blossoms in aversion, on the ground that they entrapped46 insects into their corollæ, and poisoned them sometimes with venomous juices. New and rare insects, however, seemed hereabouts to be wanting.
Occasionally the soil became marshy47, and they all had to wend their way over a perfect network of tiny rivulets48 that were affluents49 of the river from which they had started. Sometimes these rivulets were so wide that they could not be passed without a long search for some spot where they could be forded; their banks were all very damp, and in many places abounded51 with a kind of reed, which Harris called by its proper name of papyrus52.
As soon as the marshy district had been passed, the forest resumed its original aspect, the footway becoming narrow as ever. Harris pointed out some very fine ebony-trees,
[Illustration: Occasionally the soil became marshy.]
larger than the common sort, and yielding a wood darker and more durable34 than what is ordinarily seen in the market. There were also more mango-trees than might have been expected at this distance from the sea; a beautiful white lichen53 enveloped54 their trunks like a fur; but in spite of their luxuriant foliage and delicious fruit, Harris said that there was not a native who would venture to propagate the species, as the superstition55 of the country is that "whoever plants a mango, dies!"
At noon a halt was made for the purpose of rest and refreshment56. During the afternoon they arrived at some gently rising ground, not the first slopes of hills, but an insulated plateau which appeared to unite mountains and plains. Notwithstanding that the trees were far less crowded and more inclined to grow in detached groups, the numbers of herbaceous plants with which the soil was covered rendered progress no less difficult than it was before. The general aspect of the scene was not unlike an East Indian jungle. Less luxuriant indeed than in the lower valley of the river, the vegetation was far more abundant than that of the temperate57 zones either of the Old or New continents. Indigo58 grew in great profusion59, and, according to Harris's representation, was the most encroaching plant in the whole country; no sooner, he said, was a field left untilled, than it was overrun by this parasite60, which sprang up with the rank growth of thistles or nettles61.
One tree which might have been expected to be common in this part of the continent seemed entirely62 wanting. This was the caoutchouc. Of the various trees from which India-rubber is procured
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CHAPTER XVII MISGIVINGS.
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